


Knife + Aching Hands + Doctor

by EWM



Series: Whumptober2020  (MyfirstWhumptober!!) [21]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Whump, F/M, Gen, Murder Trial, Poor Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), So much angst, Whump, Whumptober 2020, mac in prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EWM/pseuds/EWM
Summary: Mac takes a knife to the ribs and makes a friend. Happy reading and Happy Whumping! (the wider story is Non peccavimus + Deal + Prison, please check it out )Originally written with the below prompt in mind for WhumptoberNo 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELLChronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection
Relationships: Angus MacGyver & Desiree "Desi" Nguyen, Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Wilt Bozer & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Whumptober2020  (MyfirstWhumptober!!) [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995484
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Knife + Aching Hands + Doctor

Mac spent his first night in prison cold, he thought the place wasn’t properly heated and the blankets were in adequate, so he tossed and turned most of the night with the blankets wrapped around him as tightly as he could. The wet hair from earlier in the day did not help either. He still shivered, all his muscles felt tight and stiff. Part of his brain longed for Desi, his mind drifted back to what seemed like only yesterday, falling asleep next to her, feeling her body next to his, wrapping his arms around her, chatting and laughing in bed. But all of that was gone now, he was alone surrounded by dirty white walls and an empty room and a smelly toilet. He couldn’t think of home, of people, of family, if he did he knew he would go mad very quickly. He was protecting them by staying here and that was enough.

He spent his first week in prison in a strange mix of boredom and extreme anxiety. He was waiting for an attack, he knew the crimes he’d be accused, well convicted of were horrifying even by prison standards and he knew it wouldn’t make him popular. An attack had to come from the guards, from his fellow prisoners, he just watched and waited. He walked around the yard, eyeing up his enemies, he stayed very quiet in the laundry letting the boredom of folding the endless sheets wash over him. He sat on his own during lunch with his back against the wall, he didn’t eat the food from the canteen as he knew he’d probably vomit, but he played with it back and forth just to give his hands something to do. As the days passed he realised his hands were becoming a problem perhaps for the first time in his life. Not only did he have absolutely nothing to do (never good for Mac), they began to ache, constantly. The cold of the prison did not help, he found his hands going red and getting stiff. The pain never went despite how many times he rubbed them together. His hands also got a series of small cuts on them which became sore, dipping his hands in cleaning fluid from the laundry didn’t help either.

Perhaps that was why when the attack finally came nearly two months later, he wasn’t ready and couldn’t defend himself. He was distracted by what at this stage had become a chronic pain in his hands. The attack was bold, it came in broad daylight in the middle of the yard. Mac wasn’t staying on the edge as he always did, he hadn’t been watching the scene. He had his head up, shutting his eyes, allowing himself a small moment of pleasure, feeling the sun on his face. If he blocked out all the noise, he could almost be back at home, on a lounger, on his deck. The prisoner took advantage of Mac’s distracted, happy face and punched his in the gut. Mac was brought out of his revery abruptly with a stabbing pain in his stomach. He coughed violently and slid down the wall, he managed to duck out of the way of the next right hook. He made to grab the guy’s arm, but the pain in his hands meant he couldn’t any kind of grip, so his attacker just pushed him back against the wall cracking his head.

Mac was dizzy for a moment and then recovered faster enough to see his attacker coming again. He dodged again, kicking out with his feet, overturning his attacker and knocking him onto his back, but the man, whoever he was, was tough and was up again almost immediately and going for him. Mac leapt away moving towards the exercise equipment, he grabbed one of the weights and threw it back at him, Mac hissed as pain shot through his fingers. The weight hit his attacker in the shoulder, but he kept coming. Mac ran again, placing a bench between them, but the guy made a running leap and jumped onto Mac. He fell backwards on the stone cracking his head again, this time he felt the blood come out. The other prisoner pulled knife from somewhere and slammed into Mac’s ribs once, twice, three times. Mac cried out on the third as he felt one of his ribs break as well, pain spread through his right side.

At this point, a little late in the game, the guards came forward and dragged Mac’s attacker off him. The rest of the yard who had all been braying like wild animals at the fight were all on their stomachs, hands on their heads. Another set of soldiers came forward and got Mac to his feet, he started to cough blood over his clothes. He put his hand over his ribs to try and stop the blood flow, but then it was jerked away and he cried out. He just let his hands and arms hang as he was pulled along, his feet knocking along on the floor of the prison corridors. The guards dumped Mac at the door of the hospital, still bleeding, but conscious

 _“You reckon, you can keep him alive doc?”_ one of them called

The doctor came forward and groaned, taking in the bruising on Mac’s face, his bloodied hands and the stab wounds

 _“Both of you fuck off, he’s my patient now.”_ The doctor snapped, he took Mac’s arm on his not injured side and took him into the hospital wing.

 _“Easy, kid, just lay down here.”_ He put Mac down gently on the table and pulled up his t-shirt. There were three long stab wounds across Mac’s ribs and his whole stomach was covered in blood. The doctor set to work as he fast as he could, cleaning away the blood and stitching Mac up. Mac flinched away from the doctor’s touch and groaned

 _“Why are you doing this??? Why not just…let me die?”_ Mac murmured

 _“Because you don’t deserve to die, not like this.”_ The doctor said, not looking up from his stitching

 _“But I III killed people…I’m poison, you should just let me die._ ” Mac said weakly trying to push the doc’s hands away, the doctor still focused on what he was doing, ignored the feeble hands and continued.

_“That may be so, but the whole hypocratic oath thing stands in the way of that.”_

Mac stopped after that and let the doctor work, everything hurt too much, he could barely breath, pain was shooting up fingers and he could feel blood in his mouth.

**

Mac woke up later comfortable, for the first time in months, not cold. He registered the multiple beds around him, his head felt fuzzy and drugged. He felt bandages on his ribs and oddly enough on his fingers and hands. His whole body still ached, but it was marginally less than before. He was amazed that he was just in a normal bed, they hadn’t put any cuffs on him or anything, he was just laying there, half awake. The doctor who had saved his life came up to him not long after he had opened his eyes. He smiled at him

_“Mr MacGyver, I’m glad to see your awake. I was worried my skills might have failed me for a little while there.”_

Mac smiled weakly back at him

_“You took three stab wounds to chest, luckily the man who attacked you missed any vital organs, so no serious internal damage. However three of your ribs are cracked, so breathing is going to be tough for a while. You might be wondering about your hands, you had an infection in your hands, you must have cut yourself early on without realising and let something nasty inside. It was never treated properly, so it grew worse and all those new little nicks you’ve got on your fingers won’t have helped. I compliment you on your pain threshold Mr MacGyver, you must have been in agony. That should go in a week or two, I’ve put you on a heavy course of antibiotics.”_

_“Why are you being so nice to me?”_ Mac asked quietly

_“I’m a doctor, Mr MacGyver, my job is to treat people and their injuries and make sure they get the best care they can, no matter their crimes. You really should try and get some more sleep.”_

The doctor started to walk on, but Mac called after him

_“Wait! You..you saved my life and I don’t even know your name.”_

_“It’s Doctor Arran, Mr MacGyver.”_

_“Thanks, would you um mind seating with me for a bit? It’s just uhh I haven’t spoken to anyone in a little while and ummm.”_

_“Of course Mr MacGyver.”_

_“Mac…my friends, they used to call me Mac.”_

_“Alright Mac, I’ll happily keep your company.”_


End file.
